The Other Side of Dubai
by MattTheDreamer
Summary: The hell of Dubai has been seen from the eyes of Captain Martin Walker; now see the hell from the eyes of his squad, and the people of Dubai.
1. Adams

**_My First Story on this site. Please enjoy!_**

**As with everything reviews are welcome.**

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**0600, UAE, Arabian Desert**

**2 hours before Delta Team enters Dubai**

_1st Lt Alphanso Adams stood next to Captain Martin Walker as he discussed the plan for entering Dubai. "We go in, confirm the status of Civilians and the 33rd, and then radio HQ". By the book… That was Walker in a nutshell. It was the reason Adams respected him. He always seemed to know how it was done and performed exemplary. "A fuckin' hero" he was called multiple times. Even Adams called him one, and to him, being a hero was no easy task. Growing up with little in a bad neighbourhood, heroes would be the type to die and be forgotten. Not Walker, Adams had seen that guy go through shitty situations and come out fine, Adams had no idea how he did it._

_Being in a war made Adams a different person. He would wait for the magic words of "Mission Accomplished" so he could go back to life as it was before, and put it all behind him, or at least try to. But someone like Walker, who could brush shit like that off with no trouble, surprised Adams, and it was no wonder he got drawn to Walker and became part of Delta Squad. Even though the constant battering and bruising tired Adams and pushed him every waking day, somehow being with Walker and his calm matter-of-fact attitude just pushed him to keep going, and emulate his attitude towards war._

_The Mission Itself was easy, Go in, and confirm life and get out was the basic gist, although command wanted to know about Lieutenant Colonel John Conrad and whether he managed to evac those refugees 6 months ago. But somehow, Adams had an uneasy feeling. Although he never shared it with Walker or especially Staff Sergeant John Lugo, he felt that death would be on them today. Of course it would, he thought. We're soldiers, what do you think we do? Hand out cookies to the enemy? We kill them. That's our job, our way of life. That's all a group such as Delta knows. That truth scared Adams more than any PTSD ridden battlefield ever could. That he could never get the stench of blood of his hands._

_As Walker detailed more of the plan Lugo joked about how" Three Bad ass Superheroes" As he called them we're sent in to deal with civvies. John Lugo… Adams had a love/hate relationship with the man, mostly hate. It's not like he didn't like him, more than once Adams shared a beer with the man and called him a comrade. No, this hate was different, more on a level of command. The problem was, Lugo was such a polar opposite to Walker, when Walker was professional, Lugo would be a smart-ass. While Walker planned by the books, Lugo wanted to do the opposite and screw orders. The man was a talented marksman and a bilingual who was an integral asset to the team, yet the feeling never left him that Lugo was not cut out for this team. The story goes that Lugo was handpicked for this role from a number of higher ranked candidates, because of his "exemplary skills that would boon the entire squad". Bullshit, Adams thought. Lugo's only skill that he hadn't seen before was his skill to fart the American National Anthem and to turn anything Adams said into an innuendo. Walker himself said that "Lugo's ass must have an IQ of 170 the shit he comes out with sometimes". Still, Adams couldn't say Lugo wouldn't be missed if he left, something about the American Anthem gained charm when farted while lying in a ditch surrounded by enemy gunfire._

_As Walker finally looked up at Adams and Lugo after detailing the plan, all he did was nod as if to say "This is it guys. Let's do it" Something about that calm face before going into a potentially fatal mission made Adams chuckle as he realized._

_"I would follow that man into Hell"_


	2. Refugees

**Introduction of the refugees and the 33rd with a bit of back story on both. Again, Enjoy!**

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**0741, UAE, Outskirts of Dubai, Dubai Al Ain Rd**

**Delta Squad is about to enter Dubai**

_Mohammad was shaking; clutching his gun towards his chest like a child would towards a toy. He had never really felt combat until today, until he decided to join the rest of the refugees in fighting the Americans. Around him bullets lined the walls of the Humvees they had attacked. Blood was strewn all over the place and the survivors were being hauled off to the plane for interrogation. Mohammad wanted no part of that. Their leader taught them so much about torture that standing around an interrogation made him physically sick; instead he guarded the area around the plane and watched for reinforcements. _

_He wasn't alone though, as well as him were two of his refugee friends, Abdul and Bashar. Each man carried an AK-47 with a M9 pistol as a sidearm. They felt heavy in their untrained arms however._

_"I don't like this" Abdul said in Farsi, finally breaking the long silence. _

_Mohammad looked to where Abdul was staring straight ahead but all he could see was the dunes and the impending sandstorm on the horizon. _

_"What's wrong? There's nothing there, besides more sand" Mohammad asked._

_"Is it the sandstorm? That thing will hit us in a few hours. I hope they finish with the Americans before then." Bashar said. _

_The Americans were known as the "Damned 33__rd__", a company of the US army sent to assist in the evacuation of Dubai. But they never did. As the tensions rose and rations ran out, the 33__rd__ resorted to brutality to control the population; Beatings, hangings, executions. All in the guise of maintaining order more like instilling fear. The only way to escape them was to join the rest of the refugees and take up arms against the 33__rd__. Mohammad never wanted to kill anyone, hell, no one in the refugees wanted to kill anyone. Their hand was forced by the Americans; they were only protecting what is left of their freedom. _

_"No" Abdul answered, interrupting Mohammad's thoughts. "I mean the situation in general."_

_Mohammad gave Bashar a bemused look. He could tell from his face that he had as little idea as he did about what he was saying._

_"What're you talking about?" Mohammad asked._

_Abdul took a deep break and let out a long sigh, he readjusted the strap on his gun, seemingly trying to make sense of the thoughts he had in his head. Finally, he spoke._

_"I don't like how we are working for an American. I don't like how even if we are fighting the 33__rd__, we still rely on them for water and food. I don't like how I am supposed to be teaching my child the Qur'an and instead I'm out here with a gun killing people. I don't like how it's been 6 months and still nothing has been done to get us out. "He finished. The words he spoke came out fast, each one was spat as if they were being kept in for months and were aching for release. The saddest thing was that Mohammad agreed with every word he said and he could see Bashar thought the same. They were just people, with little combat experience and many of them were fathers. But who the fuck cares, send them in to die, their leader probably thought._

_He personally thought his American leader didn't care about them at all, but he kept his mouth shut. That kind of talk got a man killed. And Mohammad had a wife and kids; he couldn't let them down, especially after all that's happened. The nod he gave to Abdul was one of understanding and of a shared experience. _

_The three of them there pledged that after today they would try and find a new way out of the city, so that they could be free of Americans and refugees alike. As they made it, voices started appearing in the distance, Mohammad couldn't understand it, but they we're heading towards the bus where they were standing under. _

_"Americans!" Bashar whispered as he shoved Mohammad and Abdul behind a nearby car, the three in dead silence as they moved. Hearing the footstep of the Americans as they walked up to the Humvees, from what he could understand of their English they were looking for a transmission and survivors. Whatever they were here for, they were definitely friends of the 33__rd__. _

_Other refugees joined them to help surround the soldiers and to from a plan. By now the Americans had found the ambush point, and were picking over what was left. There were three of them from what they could see. One was a tall clean shaven white man. He seemed to be middle aged. This one was the leader from what Mohammad could discern; giving brisk orders to the group and leading the party to the Humvees, he carried what seemed to be a M4A1 assault rifle. Mohammad had only ever seen the Americans wielding this, more proof they were working with them. Another was a bulky black man sporting a beard and a light machine gun. Again, it was American made. Finally there was a smaller man wearing a hat and carrying an assault rifle Mohammad had never seen before. However Mohammad did recognise the scout tactical sniper rifle on his back. These men seemed specially trained and were a lot different than the average grunt of the 33__rd__. Does that mean then that they are not working with the Americans? Mohammad couldn't understand their reasons for coming here if they did not want to help the 33__rd__; in his mind the only possible reason is to help kill the refugees. _

_As the American soldiers started looking over the wreckage of the Humvees, a plan was finally made with the other refugees; we were to hold them up, until they were shown to be true enemies. Even so, the slightest hint of aggression from the Americans would mean they were enemies and would be shot as such. As soon as an agreement was made over this, Mohammad followed the orders obediently and took his place just on top over the vehicle underneath the bus. Following him was another refugee and Bashar; Abdul took his place just beside the vehicle. _

_The Americans soldiers however were already in cover when the refugees surprised them. _

_"My name is Captain Martin Walker" The clean shaven man said in English, "We're looking for survivors" _

_"Why? So you can kill us too?" Mohammad asked in English. _

_"Get the hell out of here if you don't want to die!" Bashar shouted at them in Farsi. He didn't seem like he meant for them for understand it, only to intimidate them so they could avoid a fight. _

_"You speak Farsi?" The small man in the hat said in English, "Maybe we can understand each other better (Farsi) if we speak like this" _

_"We are a small group of American Soldiers" The small man continued in Farsi, "Looking to make contact with the refugees and help them out of the city." _

_"The last Americans who did that" Bashar shouted indignantly back in Farsi, "Have killed almost all of us, why should we trust you?"_

_"Was this the 33__rd__ who attacked you?" The man with the hat began. But beside them, the other refugee who came up with them spoke over the man with the hat. _

_"Hey! You two!" The refugee beside them shouted in English. Mohammad never noticed before, but the two in the corner had been whispering to each other. _

_"They're planning something, Kill them!" The refugee shouted in English. _

_The next few seconds were a complete blur for Mohammad; he opened fire on the three with his AK, feeling the unfamiliar jerk of the gun as the bullets exited the barrel. But the Americans had something planned, the clean shaven one rose out of cover and opened fire, not on them, but on the bus above. Mohammad had only a few seconds to see the threat, before the sand crushed him to death._

_His last thought was of his son, who would now never leave Dubai._


	3. The 33rd

**_Probably my darkest chapter yet. _**  


**_The 33rd are finally introduced, with an explanation for why they do what they do. (Still cruel though) _**

**_As always, reviews are welcome!_**

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**0800, UAE, Dubai, "The Nest", Shangri-La Hotel. **

**Delta Squad is on their way to The Nest. **

_Sergeant First Class Neil Jackson presided over his dammed squad of 20 men as they dragged the screaming citizens from their shacks and tents they called home. They stood in an area that must've been a shopping area of the old hotel. It was a large open area and Neil could spot other squads doing exactly the same thing he was doing. Taking them by force and shooting if they didn't abide them. Each one screamed insults and expletives towards his squad and him especially_

"_American Dog!"_

"_Fucking Fascists!"_ _and others that were shouted in Arabic, or whatever language they spoke in the place known as hell. They insulted him, but he brushed it off and put on the face he always had to in this situation. Cold, cruel and unsympathetic, it was the only way he could do it without tearing up. _

_How did it get to be so bad? He thought to himself, to the point where they trust us so little that even when we try to rescue them, they struggle and spit in our faces. Bullets ringed off in the walls as impudent civilians were executed for disobeying orders. _

_All we were doing is trying to help them right? He wondered. It was their fault for not understanding the actions we had to take. The rationing of the food and water was so we could last these 6 months, even years if we had to. They called us foul names, rioted and protested for keeping it away from them, but could they not see the danger of giving them free rein over the food? There would be none left if not for us, the 33__rd__. And the martial law and executions was self-defense. More and more soldiers were being killed by refugees taking up arms, yet we were the bad guys when we retaliated?! _

_Suddenly as he was thinking, an anguished scream ringed through the hall. He spinned around and found one of his squad mates Private First Class James Field writhing in the corner as blood gushed out of his throat. A small boy, no more than 8, stood staring at him with wide bloodshot eyes. He held a bloodied knife and pointed it in our direction as we raised our guns at him. James gurgled as he slowly died, staring at the boy and back at Neil with scared eyes. He was still a boy, 21 and with a life he could've still lived. _

"_I-… I'm sorry…" He spluttered before he shut his eyes for the last time. _

_In unison all eyes in the room fell on the boy. He stared from the now dead soldier back to us and raised it as us. He was shaking hard, obviously shell shocked at what he had done. He started screaming at us in a language none of the squad knew. Arabic? Farsi? But we could tell the look. When you pretend to be tough, but really inside you're just as scared James was. Neil knew the look because he had to put it on more times than he could remember. _

_On the ground, Civilians started shouted again, not of insults, but of pleading. Begging. _

"_Don't kill him!"_

"_Do it to us instead."_

"_Please…!"_

_The screams we're in unison with the boy's shouting as well. What seemed to be his mother rushed over to hug him and to shield him from the squad. _

"_Don't hurt him!" She screamed pitifully , tears and snot running down her face. "Me! Take me instead! Do what you want to me!" She spoke surprisingly good English, and from the look of some of the squad, they wouldn't mind one who consented for once. But Neil did it by the book, by what Conrad had told them. Even he did die for his ideals. _

"_He brought it on himself, he takes the punishment." He lowered his head and said it with as much power as he could, putting on the same tough guy façade the boy had just done. He saw maybe 20 pairs of eyes widen as soon as he said this, and not all of them were the civilians. The mother put up little struggle as his son was taken from her arms. Likewise, he dropped the knife as soon as he saw the look of the soldiers. The look of cold hatred that you can only get from people who just lost a friend. _

_Neither did he struggle much when the placed him in the barrel and tied his hands so he couldn't escape. Terrified and unfeeling eyes alike watched as each knot was tied in his restraints, the boy now starting to come to terms with what was about to happen. He struggled, but the barrel was firmly placed on the ground, and heavier than the boy could manage. He couldn't escape even if he wanted to. As the squad pulled out small bottles of oil given out to the squad for this purpose, Neil took out a box of unopened matches. His eyes were darkened and unfeeling now. As he slowly took one out of the box, making sure to choreograph it so each and every person in the area could see what he was about to do. _

_The pleading screams in Arabic were the signal the men were done. Neil slowly stepped forwards, making sure to keep the unlit match firmly in front of him. As he did this he spoke slowly and loudly, making sure, even with the chaos that was caused by other squads taking the civilians, they could hear him. _

"_We're here to help you people, yet murder is all you give in return." He brought the match close to the striking surface of the match box. "This boy has given has committed a grave crime and taken one of our own." He ran the match along the striking surface of the matchbox. He failed to get a flame. "He brought his punishment on himself, as you all saw." The second time he got a flame, and held it up for all to see. Civilians started to turn away, but the soldiers pointed guns and forced them to watch, so they could see what happens. Holding it up, he shouted with as much force as he could._

"_This is what happens to those who don't obey. He brought this on himself!" _

_He flicked the match towards the boy. Time seemed to be in slow motion as the match traveled through the air and into the barrel. The boy, blackened by the oil, stopped screaming and just started as the thing that would kill him flew through the air. _

_His screams reverberated off the walls as he was burnt alive. _

"_You brought this on yourself" Neil echoed as he ordered his squad to finish their job. That's when sounds of bullets ripped through the area, and Delta Squad finally made its appearance. _


	4. John Konrad

**Another chapter... You know what to do. ;)**

**Introducing the big bad, John Konrad as well as the Exiles. Have a good read. **

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**1435, UAE, Dubai, Jumeirah Emirates Towers.**

**2 months prior to the entrance of Delta Force**

_Lieutenant Colonel John Konrad stood patiently waiting at The Gate, the outpost used for civilian rescues, or at least, used to. He lit a cigarette and slowly started taking a drag from it. It's a disgusting habit, he thought, but it takes my mind off things. _

_He was out in the open, exposed to all sniper fire. With a few glances, he spotted at least 4 areas where a sniper would get a clear shot on him. But he didn't care as much as he did before; before Dubai tainted him and his men. It made them all Damned to hell, even though they did it for the greater good. _

_Konrad was waiting for the call from his men, telling him that it was ready for him to come in, but they were still finishing preparations. In the meantime, Konrad waited out here and got some air before he did what he had to do. After each drag of his cigarette, he thought on how it had got to this. Entering Dubai was his command to begin with, to help the rescue effort. He did it out of good will, was what the men thought. No… He thought. I did it to make up for my screw up, so they could see me as the hero they always did. After Afghanistan… He trailed off in thought. The truth was; Afghanistan was a tough time for the 33__rd__. After a major offensive, they were left broken, beaten and demoralised. Konrad was no longer seen as the hero that he used to be. But he craved it; he lived for the hero worship of his units, volunteering the unit for Dubai was more to redeem himself than to actually help the civilians. He even disobeyed orders from the top and was effectively cut off from the rest of the world, just so he could become a hero again. But then everything went wrong. After the failed evacuation of Dubai, which left 1,300 civilians and soldiers dead, Konrad retreated in on himself, and lived in depression in his room on the Burj Al Arab hotel. He was a pathetic sight, yet still instilled confidence in his men whenever he made an appearance. He needed to be confident today as well. Since he was about to justify the killing of his own men._

_Suddenly bullets ricocheted off the walls and ground around him. An alarm was sounded. Must be the remnants… Konrad mused. As the 33__rd__ began to return fire, All Konrad could do was crouch behind a nearby wall. The camp at the gate had been raised to full alert and about 50 men decked on in M4A1 Assault rifles and M9 Pistols, took their place at the gate to defend it. The amount of enemies was unknown, but from Konrad's best guess, it was about 15-20. The Exiles, as they were called, were old members of the 33__rd__ who had a "difference of opinion" after the first failed rescue attempt as the men were told. In reality, Konrad had been given the choice to either give up his command, or his command team would defect and lead the men against him. A lose-lose situation, and Konrad had wondered every day since then what it would've been like if he chose the first option. But he reaped what he sowed, and only he deserved to shoulder the blame of what he did, not his men or anyone else. If the civilians only saw him as the bad guy, then his men would be spared the hate. But as always, no one ever understands._

_The guerrilla tactics they used put them at an advantage in the urban sprawl that was Dubai and patrol's had been lost consistently to them. On the other hand however, they lost the weaponry advantage because of their cut with the 33rd and assaults decimated them when the big guns were rolled out. This time, they were using the high ledges around the gate to their advantage and were raining fire down on the men. They seemed to be sporting a medley of M4's and AK47's, Konrad had been shot at enough with both to know the difference between the two. The 33__rd__ were losing 5 men to every one they killed and it forced their hand to use the weapon, White Phosphorous. _

_After the screams had finished and the charred bodies had been removed, Konrad was finally called inside. The Exiles had tried to assault the base to find these men, their command team, and their leaders. Those who had attacked were probably all that was left of them, A last ditch suicide mission to get them out. Konrad had seen too many men waste their lives like that, on a dream that they could never achieve. He hated it because he was exactly the same._

_Inside the lobby of the hotel, men were setting up barricades in case of another exiles attack. The kids seemed like they were shitting themselves in prospect of a group of crazy men who would do all that it took to kill you. Sandbags lined the room and small hastily set up walls were being fitted with machine guns to help with defence. As he passed his dammed men, each saluted to him. An empty salute however, with nothing behind it but respect of the rank. That was what he had become. As he entered the room where the 5 men were tied to chairs, each one slowly looked at him with disgust and hate in their eyes. _

"_Good afternoon gentlemen, it's time for your shower." He said, smiling a forced smile for the men. Each of the men knew what he meant by shower, and were scared. These men, who used to trust him with their own lives, now were terrified of him. He even knew each of his men by name. Left to right, their names were:_

_Captain Johnathan Shepard, the man who once called Konrad, "The bravest and boldest son of a bitch in the military." _

_1__st__ Lieutenant Marcus Dyson, the man who stood by Konrad as he tortured a civilian for information and afterwards told him that "You gotta do, what you gotta do the protect everyone."_

_Captain Peter Mason, Quieter than the rest, but followed the others when they all left. Was known as the man behind the guerrilla tactics of The Exiles. _

_2__nd__ Lieutenant Liam Pattison, almost sacrificed his arm to save Konrad's life during the Afghanistan conflict, now her couldn't even look at his faced without cringing. _

_1__st__ Lieutenant Brandon Bart, known as "Black Bart". Was a personal friend of Konrad's until the incident 4 months ago, his last words to Konrad was "If you don't do as we say, then were going to fucking kill all of you!"_

_Each man used to be important to Konrad, now they meant nothing except for becoming an example. He wondered if they would think the same of him if someone else was on the other side of those ropes. _

"_Ugh…. Konrad… You're fucking crazy…" Captain Shepard spluttered._

"_Silence." Konrad replied as a nearby soldier smacked him in the jaw with the butt of his rifle. He yelled in pain as he spat out a mixture of blood and teeth from his mouth." _

_The others were scared into silence as Shepard bled from his broken jaw and mouth. He wouldn't be talking for a while now. _

"_Now we have peace, you can have your shower." He said, again firmly planting his joyful smile on his face. He called it a shower of how Konrad used it. He placed undetonated phosphorous grenades above the men in small nooses that hung from the roof. One pull of the string and it detonated and the phosphorous falls on the men, giving them a "shower"._

_The method Konrad used made it possible for them to see their death falling on them before they die, it was cruel, but it was necessary to show them an example. _

"_You all know your crimes by now. You defected and killed my men, your men. They used to be your friends, your comrades, but you mercilessly killed and tortured many of them." He explained to them. "Our retaliation filled the fuel to your fire, and no choice was left to us but eradication. We didn't want to do this, but our hand was forced by your continued aggression." _

"_YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR!" Brandon screamed at him. "OUR HANDS WERE FORCED BY YOU, YOU COCKSUCKER!" _

"_I used to call you men my friends, but you have shown me that my trust was misplaced." He rebutted at a soldier punched Brandon to shut him up.  
_

"_Aargh… Bastard…." Brandon winced. _

"_Now, this is your punishment, I would say that I was sorry for your suffering, but were you ever sorry for my men? You brought this on yourself." He finished as his men pulled the pins and Konrad put on his gas mask. _

_The explosion of the grenades shook the room and burned even the skin of Konrad who was standing far away from it. The burns were worse on the men though. As expected, they looked up to see their death before they experienced it. The phosphorous stuck to their skin and burned their flesh from the bone. Their screams rang hollow in the hearts of the men who were standing by because they despised them. Eyes bulged and melted in their sockets as they wriggled to try and escape. As they finally died, Konrad ordered them not to be moved from their position. His last words chilled even himself to the bone._

"_Any man who kills a comrade should be burned, to show them who the rulers are…"_

_6 weeks later Konrad committed suicide over his actions in Dubai. _

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_**War is hell, but reading about it is harmless right? **_


	5. Gould

**Another new chapter! **

**With the school starting again in a few days, I'm going to have to only put these out once a week. Sorry, but trying to Juggle school and this story will be a impossibility. **

**With that over, please enjoy the new chapter!**

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**1030, UAE, Dubai, Just outside the Dubai Museum. **

**Captain Walker has fallen into the pit. **

_Rick Gould had been watching the entrance to the Dubai Museum and the mall nearby for several hours now. He watched for any sign of his friend, Thomas Daniels. The signal he had traced from the recording that boomed all over the speakers in the city, had led him here and now he waited. In the back of his mind he knew it had to be a trap to lure the rest of them here and he also knew that Daniels was probably dead, most likely from that damn phosphorous again. _

_The area around the museum was mostly a maze of debris and steel from the fallen buildings. It made a fantastic ambush point with the variety of cover of high ground that a well-trained squad could use. Gould didn't have such a luxury. He was one of the members of the CIA team "Grey Fox" which was sent into Dubai to help "deal" with the civilians in the city. To help them with this, they also commanded the refugees to fight the 33__rd__ and brew conflict between them. It was unfortunate, but it had to be done for the greater good. At least, that's what Riggs said. _

"_We are here to prevent a war" He would repeat as if it did anything. Gould knew that it had to be done, but he couldn't help but feel remorse for the lies he had to tell daily. _

_But there were no reinforcements to help them with this mission, no cavalry to take them home. Already two of their numbers were either dead or presumed so. It was only him and Jeff Riggs left at that point, to take down a company of over three hundred men. Still, his new found killing machines were doing most of the work for him. Delta Force, they were called and they were tearing straight through Dubai murdering everyone in their way. Gould now had his capable genocidal maniacs to control and they were on their way to the museum as well. _

_Gould's plan was to use them to check if Daniels was actually alive. He couldn't risk getting captured after all he's done; these new pawns would be perfect for him. As if on cue, the pop of gunshots and the screams of 33__rd__ men pierced the air._

_Showtime, he thought. _

_The sound of the bullets came from the side of the museum and Gould sprinted as fast as he could across the rooftop where he was watching from. The distraction caused by Delta Force allowed Gould to move anywhere he wanted with little resistance and the rooftops were like a playground to him as he manoeuvred himself to a better position to see Delta Force. Eventually, he found them crouching behind cover returning fire to the 33__rd__. _

_As he watched them fighting, The Leader, a Captain Martin Walker, took position on a turret and provided covering fire to his other men. These other two were 1__st__ Lieutenant Alphanso Adams and Staff Sergeant John Lugo. Lugo was helping Walker provide covering fire to Adams, who was setting charges on a door to blow it open. Bullets rained down on the now helpless 33__rd__ units, their ACU's already punctured before they could even take a single shot. _

_Gould became more and more confident as the battle continued, Walker and Lugo was decimating their ranks seemingly without effort overpowering the lesser trained men. It didn't matter how much cover they used or how many men they were put up against, the .50 calibre M2A1 Browning machine gun ripped straight through them. They were a masterpiece in destruction and death, the perfect soldiers. _

_Gould saw the 33__rd__ retreat from the area finally as Adams finally opened up the door. He couldn't see past the point where they entered, but he could guess. The 33__rd__ used the museum and its outlying buildings as a sort of execution hole where he took the surviving exiles to be tortured and killed. After which they would be paraded around and left to rot as an example to the other men. The only people Gould could remember not going to the museum, besides the men hung on the lampposts, were the command team of the exiles and Konrad's former command team. They got a special execution at "The Gate" where all of his men could see what happened to anyone who threatened his rule. It was likely that that in the same hole where Delta dropped down were the bodies of the men who dared to revolt against their leader. Gould scrambled to try and catch a glimpse of the inside of the museum interior unfortunately, however, the insides were mostly covered by sand and Delta was lost in the bosom of the museum. _

_As he tried to catch a look at Delta Force, the 33__rd__ appeared to be building up a force outside the museum. It was a trap after all, Gould thought to himself. A sizable force of at least 50 was entering the museum not to mention the support they were getting from a helicopter as well. Something was about to happen and just as thought about it, the Radioman interrupted the recording of Daniel's torture that had been playing ever since he arrived at the museum. _

"_Whoa… Feedback!" The Radioman said over the mic as the ear splitting noise of the feedback burned Gould's ears. _

"_Me? Who the hell are you?" He said seemingly replying to Captain Walker asking the man to identify himself._

"_Hehe... Well now Captain. This little trap was meant for a fox named Gould, but you 'aint Gould. In fact I don't know who you are, no one does and that's dangerous." Gould could see this conversation would not end peacefully. _

_Without Delta Force, his whole plan would be ruined. He needed them alive. He couldn't face them alone, he had neither the combat skill of Delta nor the stubbornness to keep going and the nearest refugee unit was several blocks away, too far to make it in time. Shit, he thought to himself as he tried to communicate with them, the fucking Radioman is preventing me to contact them directly! _

"_Everyone. " The Radioman again said on the mic, another answer to the question from the sound of it. _

_Gould couldn't interfere directly. It would be suicide; the only thing he could think of was to guide them out of there safely. He had been in the museum too many times, it was how he knew of what went on inside. He was close to what seemed to be a balcony that overlooked the confrontation. Sprinting, he ran from the rooftop lower down to a window which connected to the balcony. Using all the power in his legs, he leaped through the window and managed to grab on to the balcony and haul himself over. It was feat worthy of an action movie, but this movie had no happy ending. He rushed through the museum trying to remember the layout from his memory and following the sounds of the radioman talking as well. _

"…_I mean, come on! You didn't actually think we'd just let you walk in here, did you?.. Well you found some. It's a bitch, aint it?" He continued. Again, the ending seemed to be another question, from what Gould could theorise; Walker was saying that they came to look for survivors. And we came to do the same thing, but with different intentions, Gould thought. _

"_MOVE IN, BOYS!" The Radioman shouted as the helicopter over the museum dropped what seemed to be an explosive charge into the building. It was then when Gould finally entered the room. It was circular with a set of escalators separating the ground and first floor, however they were broken now. In the middle hanging upside down was the dead body of Thomas Daniels. His body was burned and his mouth open like he was screaming before he died. It horrified Gould, even though he had seen the thing so many times before. When it happens to a friend, it's just sickening._

_Some of the 33__rd__ had already spotted, however it was no time to look at a dead body. _

"_Captain Walker!" He shouted down to Delta Force. _

"_Up there! It's Gould" A soldier of the 33__rd__ shouted. Gould needed to be out of there yesterday, before they captured him and did the same thing they did to Daniels. _

"_Get out of there!" He shouted as he unclipped a blank firing impact grenade. The things had only really been used for training by the military, but the impact they caused on the ground allowed it to kick up sand which made them useful to help conceal allies. As he threw the grenade at the approaching 33__rd__ soldiers he left them he shouted one last instruction._

"_Don't just stand there! RUN!" _

_And like good little pawns, they obeyed. _


	6. Lugo

**You can tell that school is back in full force because i'm being lazy. **

**Anyway, a new chapter is here. Hope you enjoy. **

* * *

**1100, UAE, Dubai, Somewhere below the Dubai Museum.**

**Delta has made contact with Gould. **

Staff Sergeant John Lugo was used to the horror of war by now. He had seen some of the worst humanity had to offer. He'd been to Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia and Palestine. Lugo could almost perfectly recite the codenames and objectives for the missions he performed. Operation Night Thunder, a secret mission to disarm a cell of terrorists in Iraq. He'd performed so well he was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal for his actions that night. Another one was Operation Blackout, where Lugo performed "Admirably" in an ambush by modern day pirates in Somalia. The injuries he sustained got him a Purple Heart medal. But to him, that glory wasn't enough. He was a fighter, ever since he was born. His mother told him he had his father's genes for war but until now he never understood why he had died. Why his father had hanged himself almost 20 years ago. It was what he had studied so hard to understand but he still didn't know, until he had come into this city.

Dubai had tainted all of Delta now; Lugo could smell it on all of them as he tried to patch up Adams' leg wound. Men of any less calibre would've offed themselves just like his father did if they were forced to fight other Americans on the field of battle. Lugo wondered whether all of this was all a big nightmare and that he'd wake up back at base with two naked women on either side of him… But unfortunately, this was reality and it was only going to get worse.

The three men were crouched in a pit that used to be the museum. The helicopter had blown a hole straight through the floor and kicked up sand into Lugo's throat. He had choked and spluttered as he gasped for breath, he had hardly noticed that he was about to fall into the hole himself.

"Great," He had said to himself as he woke up from the fall, "At least it can't get any fucking worse than this."

As Lugo pushed the rubble and steel bars off his body, he noticed the flickering light from what seemed to be a flashlight. It was Walker. Standing up as fast as he could, Walker moved with the same purposeful stride that Lugo had loved. The squad as they were now had only been together for about a year now. But they had gone through countless missions and survived unwinnable scenarios. It took a man like Walker to have the leadership it took to lead men to another battle, another hell. Even when he first met the man, Lugo knew he would probably die by his side and he didn't mind. As long as the superheroes that were Delta would go out with a bang, Lugo didn't have a care on the world about his death. Sure, he didn't want it any time soon, but if that what God wanted, then who was he to question it? He quickly met up with Walker as they both found Adams. He was fine for the most part, but his leg had wounds from that blast. Even supermen get injured, he thought to himself.

As he patched up Adams' leg, Adams took the chance to talk to Walker.

"What're thinkin' Walker?" He asked.

Alphanso Adams was a man who knew Lugo inside out. The two men had shared beers and jokes together, Lugo was the joking one and Adams was the hardass soldier. It was like something out of a comedy sketch. Even though, Lugo knew Adams had doubts about him, he could see it in some of the ways he reacted to his jokes or his brash remarks when he fucked up. He couldn't blame him though, Adams had it hard when he was growing up apparently, and while Lugo was no shrink, he knew enough to know that Adams didn't like messing around because he was born around violence. It was enough to make Lugo almost stop the jokes entirely, but he also knew that Adams couldn't be left in hell alone without someone to get pissed off at.

"I'm thinking we landed in the middle of a fucking warzone" Walker replied to Adams while keeping watch.

"It's impressive seeing as the city was supposed to be uninhabited" Lugo joked to try and lighten the tense mood.

"Exactly." Walker said back.

"Maybe it's time we got out of here, called in the evac team?" Adams suggested.

"We've got eight miles of open desert between us and the storm wall. The helos would cut us down before we took ten steps." Walker replied. "Our only option now is to reconnect with Gould."

Walker was too trusting of people. Gould had come out of nowhere and told them to run. Sure, he saved their asses, but it wasn't the first time that someone went turncoat on them. In fact, only today, two groups they had thought were friendly, decided to shoot at them for little to no reason. At this point, Lugo thought that going in with some trepidation may be the better move. But then again, the CIA has been the only guys so far not to shoot them on sight. Lugo thought there was some merit to at least working with them for a while. Either way, Adams spoke his feeling to Walker.

"You sure you want to cast our lot with the CIA?" Adams asked

"We have no choice" Walker explained as he was moving towards a far door on the other side of the rubble. "You've seen what's become of the 33rd "He finished.

"Captain's right." Lugo had to agree. "The Dammed are out of control, someone's gotta stop them" He finished. By this point, Adams got up and picked up his gun. If anything, Adams was a tough son of a bitch. They followed Walker through the rubble as Adams continued the conversation.

"I know!" He said, "But can we trust him?" Adams asked. It was the same question Lugo had asked himself only moments earlier.

"Gould risked his life to save ours" Walker stated, "He's earned my trust."

More like Gould threw a grenade then ran off, Lugo mused. He didn't say anything though, arguing with the captain was not what he wanted to do right now, and Walker would've won anyway.

"What about Konrad?" Adams asked.

Konrad was worth less than a fly soaked in shit in Lugo's book. Walker may have loved the man before, but people change and what was going on in Dubai was not saving the civilians like what Conrad promised to begin with. He was killing them, stringing them up as examples in the streets. Lugo had seen enough to know that whatever Konrad was before, he had changed into a devil.

"This isn't just about finding Konrad anymore." Walker stated. "It's about doing what's right."

Lugo didn't know if what they were doing was right. They were deliberately betraying orders and moving into a city because they couldn't go any further back. Walker usually was a man who followed orders, he would never leave a man behind but his morals had never contradicted his orders before. Not until he had seen U.S Soldiers butchered by foreigners. Therefore the three had moved in, filled with visions of heroics as they mowed down wave after wave of Refugees. The way Lugo said it, it sounded like the intro to a crappy video game. But this was real; the layers of sweat, dirt and blood were not faked. Their aching bodies were not faked. The wounds they had sustained were not faked. If it was a video game though, at least they would've known that they were fighting for the right reasons.

As the three men dropped down some destroyed stairs, Lugo wondered more about the consequences of their actions. They had saved the refugees from kidnaping and they were about to help the CIA, who were here to find survivors as well. By Lugo's morals, they were doing the right thing. As the three moved towards the door at the end, Lugo saw Walkers eyes. They were bloodshot, but focused, calm and steady. Walker had a mission, and whether it was right or wrong, he was going to complete it. He couldn't help but admire that confidence. Pressed up against the door, Walker looked to Adams.

"Now Adams, do the honours." Walker said.

"Whatever you say" As Adams opened the door with his shotgun.

Lugo didn't much about what was coming next, but he knew at least that dying beside these men in battle wouldn't be the worst way to go out. Not like his father…

* * *

_War does not determine who is right - only who is left. - Bertrand Russell_


End file.
